Détente
by clandestine7
Summary: [HaruRin] Haruka is so used to thinking they're always at odds that he doesn't realize until afterwards that sometimes, they prove that they aren't.


**A/N**: This is my first Free! fic. I have become a contributing member of the fandom!

(I couldn't for the life of me think of an English word that holds the meaning of 'détente,' so the trusty google definition is: 'the easing of strained relations, especially between nations' but we will ignore that last part)

* * *

_Détente_

* * *

Rin is an enigma, full of flighty feelings, of emotions that change direction as unexpectedly as one of those vicious winter winds. Everything that he is, is everything that Haruka isn't. They are always at odds with each other. There's a jagged feeling to the air between them, Haruka thinks. At least, he knows he feels _something_ when Rin is around that signals that any wrong word, or move, or look from either of them could send everything to ruins.

Even now that they've reached this détente of theirs, nothing between them is stable. With Rin, there is no calm. It's exhausting.

Still, Haruka has managed to wake up to Rin in his bed so many times that it's become a routine to listen to Rin's slow, quiet breathing in the morning, enough to fill the room. It reminds Haruka somehow of the crash of waves from a distance. Sometimes he lies there for minutes on end, eyes open, or sometimes closed, and listens.

This morning, Rin is turned away from him, and Haruka marvels at the vividness of his hair against the white of the pillow it's spilled all over.

He reaches out for a few strands, runs his fingers over them. Listens to Rin breathe, lets the sound wash over him – almost like the water does when he dives in. But Rin's breathing is lighter, finds ways to settle into his pores, his muscles. It feels like the jagged edges between them have been padded with cotton.

What is it about Rin that makes him feel so sluggish and heavy? So frustrated, and delighted, and expectant, and tight-chested, and so much else?

Who is Rin, to be such a necessary person to him?

He wraps the bit of hair around his finger and tugs lightly. A second time, when Rin sleeps on. "Rin."

Rin makes a sleepy, disgruntled sound and starts to roll over. Haruka pulls his hand back.

"Whattaya want?" Rin says, suddenly so much closer, peering at Haruka through heavy eyelids. Then, for no reason Haruka can discern, Rin lets out a breathy chuckle, and a smile smoothes out his features.

Rin is laughter at the most surprising times. He is long, slender fingers curled in front of his face. Strong shoulders, and clean-shaven arms that Haruka insists are weird but truthfully likes to run his hands down when he thinks Rin won't notice.

When in the world did this attraction happen? When in the world had he started entertaining the thought of sleeping with Rin – friend-turned-rival-turned-who-knows-what Rin – and when had it actually started happening? Weeks ago? Almost a month? Sensible things – rationality and time-keeping – are lost when it comes to Rin.

"Cheer up, sunshine," Rin mumbles, poking a finger against the corner of Haruka's mouth and pushing it up toward his cheek.

Haruka doesn't react, and so Rin closes his eyes again, nuzzles into his pillow, still smiling that pleased smile of his. His hand drops to end up pressed lightly to Haruka's chin. If Haruka were to lower his face slightly, he would be able to kiss it.

"You should get up."

Rin's eyebrows lift, but his eyes remain closed. "What's for breakfast?"

"Macke-"

"Not fucking mackerel."

Haruka frowns. "You can leave."

An eye cracks open. And Rin breaks into a quiet round of laughter that is still scratchy from sleep. He slings an arm over Haruka's shoulders and pulls him in. Hooks a foot around one of Haruka's ankles.

Their foreheads are pressed together, and Rin pretends to try to fall back asleep, and Haruka takes a moment to balance himself. Rin is all hard muscle, relaxed at the moment but always ready to tense, spring, capture.

"You're going to miss the train."

"The trains run all day." Rin's stale sleep-breath washes over Haruka's face. His fingers make slow patterns over Haruka's shoulder blade.

"You should still get up."

"I will," he says, and wriggles closer.

Rin is pushy and demanding. And warm. Sturdy. Surprisingly vulnerable, when he lets himself be, laying down his shields for a select few. He is the person in Haruka's bed. It's all so bizarre.

Haruka indulges him for a moment, blinking Rin's hair out of his eyes, reveling in the heavy warmth in his stomach that Rin's fingers on his back elicit. Then he squirms his way free, gets out of bed. Rin lets him go without a fight, but for once Haruka doesn't let _him_ win without one. He takes hold of Rin's wrist, tugs him toward the edge of the bed.

"Haru!" Rin complains, an utter dead weight, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Haruka sighs, grabs hold with his other hand, and tugs harder. Rin flails, eyes shooting open, and falls over onto the floor. The blankets are twisted around his feet, and he struggles to free himself from them. "God dammit, Haru!" he says, not quite yelling, but almost. An angry flash to his eyes, he is snarls and sharp teeth. "What the fuck –"

Haruka walks out of the room before he can finish. It's too early for this.

* * *

Not much later, Haruka makes out the sound of Rin's footsteps over the sizzle of cooking fish.

"Haru, I finished your shampoo," is how Rin announces his presence as he ducks into the kitchen, and Haruka makes a mental note to head down to the mart later on.

"You're really making mackerel again," Rin says under his breath, coming up and propping his chin on Haruka's shoulder.

"It's good for you."

"Other things are good for you," Rin says, his chin a subtle shifting pressure against Haruka's shoulder as he speaks. Haruka is relieved that Rin isn't still angry – it was probably a stupid thing for him to have done. He's glad he doesn't have to apologize.

He works his spatula beneath the filet and flips it over. The skin has crisped and browned; his stomach growls. "Mackerel tastes good."

Rin doesn't sigh very often, but he does now. Haruka's lips twitch into a faint smile at the sound. Then they twitch back into a frown as Rin's arms burrow beneath his apron to wrap around his front.

"You're really clingy," Haruka says.

Rin's laugh is a short, sharp exhale of amusement. "Thanks for that, Sherlock." His fingers search for the bottom of Haruka's shirt and try to slip beneath, but Haruka elbows him away.

Rin goes good-naturedly, and when Haruka turns around with two plates of mackerel, Rin's sitting in the next room, his head pillowed in his arms on the low table.

"Why are you so tired?" Haruka asks as he crosses into the room. He sets the plates down, folds himself onto the floor beside Rin. Rin's wearing one of his shirts, he notices – it's plain and gray and has always been a bit too loose on him, but Rin fills it out better.

Rin lifts his head, blinks blearily and then pins Haruka with a fox-like grin. "Remind me when you let me go to sleep."

Haruka looks away, starts eating his food. Ignores the quiet heat that has taken to his cheeks. Rin just gives a breathy laugh and inhales his mackerel, then starts to pick pieces off of Haruka's plate as well. Haruka feels like he's been trying to fend him off all morning, and can't be bothered to anymore. It's a pleasant silence behind the clink of chopsticks on china, nonetheless.

It's also a pleasant silence as they brush their teeth side by side. Rin has his own toothbrush – the red one that sits unused in the cup most days except some weekends – and Haruka wonders when that happened as well.

Haruka spits and turns on the faucet, and is reaching for some water when Rin pushes him to the side and spits messily into the sink. Haruka makes a muffled sound of discontent, and watches Rin wash away a watery trickle of toothpaste that has spilled down his chin.

"Sorry," Rin says, giving him a slightly sheepish smile. Haruka just nudges him a bit to the side so he can rinse out his mouth.

"I'm borrowing your shirt," Rin announces unnecessarily as they head back to Haruka's room. He also curls his fingers into the hair on the back of Haruka's head, unnecessarily.

Haruka shakes his head. "I know."

"I'm also borrowing your underwear."

Haruka freezes for a moment in the doorway, and Rin elbows his way past. Then he releases a long-suffering sigh and continues inside. "You can keep them."

"I'll buy you more."

He knows Rin is joking, but he still needs to make it clear – "Please don't."

They set about gathering up Rin's things. It's surprising how wide-spread they have managed to get. Cell phone beneath one of Haruka's pillows, iPod and baseball cap on Haruka's desk, a pack of gum on the small table in front of the window. And his clothes in a scattered heap near Haruka's bed, which Haruka kicks over to Rin's backpack by the door.

Rin is wearing his own running shorts now, and they seem to be the only article of clothing he bothered packing. Haruka watches as he ties his hair into a small ponytail – the one that means he is indeed planning on running to the station.

Haruka diverts his attention to the bed before Rin catches him staring, because Rin has an uncanny habit of doing just that. He starts to straighten out the mess of sheets, then changes his mind and begins to strip the bed for the laundry instead. He hears the quiet shuffle of Rin's footsteps, and wonders if Rin's going to help him.

"Haru."

Haruka turns, and is surprised by Rin's mouth covering his, but releases an unbidden sigh as Rin's hands take his hips. The kiss is enthusiastic, and possessive, like everything else that Rin is. Haruka's grip on Rin's hair makes up for any words he knows he won't say afterward. He's messing up the ponytail, fingers tugging the tie loose without really intending to, probably snagging bits of hair in the process, but Rin just keeps kissing him so he just keeps holding on.

And then Rin slows everything down, hands sliding from Haruka's hips to his stomach and up, over his chest, his neck, finally to cup his face. Something stutters and trips in Haruka's chest. His arms fall to his sides, and he opens his eyes, but Rin's eyes are closed, and he's still kissing him. Another stutter in his chest as Rin's teeth gently take hold of his bottom lip and let it go slowly, slowly. And then stillness, lips to lips and Haruka's racing heartbeat.

One thing that has stayed consistent after all these years is how turbulent Rin makes him feel. One moment Rin is this, the next moment Rin is that. How to even keep up? Haruka still hasn't figured out how.

Rin kisses him one more time, on the corner of his mouth, and then turns away to stuff his clothes into his backpack. Haruka watches – watches Rin's hands as he zips the backpack closed, watches Rin's hands as he re-ties his hair – finds himself chewing on his bottom lip, and quickly looks away. He realizes Rin probably caught him staring the last time.

* * *

Goodbyes are the easiest things, because each one is just an invitation for the next hello to come.

At the front door, Rin leans against the door frame – not quite out and not quite in. He gives Haruka a lazy grin, chin tipped up slightly, and says, "You guys had better practice harder if you wanna stand a chance against us. We're gonna kick your asses."

Haruka shrugs, hands over the jacket Rin left in the living room. "Maybe."

Rin just rolls his eyes, slings the jacket over his shoulder. "Riveting. I can't wait." He starts to turn, edge out of the doorway. "See ya, Haru."

The swish of a ponytail, and he's heading away. A hand lifts over his shoulder for a moment, no longer. And Haruka closes the door.

He can still feel Rin in the halls and the rooms, almost thinks that he'll turn a corner and Rin will be there yawning away the morning fog, only to send Haruka a smile when he notices him. It's a settling feeling, oddly. The aftermath of Hurricane Rin is a pervasive sense of calm, and Haruka stops in the kitchen, in the slant of light coming in through the window, and wraps his arms loosely around himself, takes a few moments to breathe that calm in.

He's so used to thinking they're always at odds that he doesn't realize until afterwards that sometimes, they prove that they aren't.


End file.
